by Tricia Goyer
Uneasiness filled Marianna. To have to do such a thing! She lowered her head, queasiness coming over her from the woman's forced humility. Marianna imagined herself kneeling in such a way, and prickles covered her arms as if a thousand invisible ants climbed them.
Her chest tightened as if someone had put a harness around it and pulled. The slightest headache beat along with her heartbeat in her temple. If she learned anything growing up, it was that others were watching, God was watching. And even though others in the congregation didn't know what was going on inside, God could read her thoughts.
"I confess today that I am sorry for sinning in this way, and I promise not to do it again." Following Viola's words, came the release of a deep breath.
"You are forgiven." The bishop motioned her back to her seat. As the woman returned, Marianna noticed the hint of a smile, and she knew the woman no doubt felt better not carrying her transgressions on her shoulders any more.
Seeing the woman's clear relief, Marianna couldn't help but wonder if she had anything to confess. She couldn't think of anything worthy of going in front of the church—not that she'd have to confess if she did think of something. She was still in her rumspringa and had yet to join the church. Only official members who'd been baptized into the congregation had to go through such steps. Of course, she would be an official member soon. Her plan was to start meeting with the deacons, to prepare for joining this fall with the rest of the like-minded young people.
Yet at this point she didn't even know if she'd be here in Indiana, and the last thing she wanted was to go through such an important event in a different place, far from everything she knew. Which meant she'd have to wait another year. Her life would be put on hold for her father's desire for adventure. Marianna clenched the palm of her bandaged hand, and her nails dug into the cloth. And as the others began to rise around her, she wondered if having angry thoughts for one's father and brother was a sin according to the Ordnung? Those were becoming a regular occurrence.
After the church service came time for lunch. Marianna helped in the kitchen as the men added legs to the sitting benches, transforming them into narrow tables that ran the length of the room in rows. Once the tables were up, she joined the other women in draping long tablecloths over them. Then she worked at setting out lunch: peanut butter, jam, sweet pickles, and pickled beets. It was the same every week. Next came the large loaves of bread. She took three loaves at a time and set slices along the tables for the men who sat and ate.
"How are you doing today?"
The voice came from behind her, and Marianna's heart felt warm and full, as if it had doubled in her chest. She knew Aaron's voice without turning.
She rearranged the bread on the plate, almost afraid to look at him. Finally Marianna took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. Aaron was taking the seat beside where she stood, sitting down next to his younger brother who was just a toddler.
"I'm fine, and you?"
"Good, good. Just helping my brother get some lunch. Your mother said you made some of those pies."
She turned her body toward him and met his gaze.
"Yes, the apple ones. I can cut you a piece if you'd like."
Aaron looked up at her from where he sat. His eyes were light. Almost as light as the sky after a rainstorm, and they sparkled as if they were filled with a thousand raindrops. His hair was the color of golden wheat and had a halo around it from where his hat had sat. He looked part boy and part man. Mostly man.
"I would love a piece, Marianna. Denke."
Her heartbeat quickened and even though the words were simple she sensed emotion behind them.
She left the bread on the table and hurried to the kitchen. And even though they didn't serve pie until after everyone had finished their sandwiches, none of the women said a word as she cut a large slice of apple pie, slid it onto a plate, and then took it to Aaron, setting it before him.
"Denke. It looks delicious." His hand brushed against hers as he reached for the plate, and tingles raced up her arm.
Marianna looked away, noticing the women in the kitchen were still watching, and she felt as if her soul was bare before them. It wasn't a comfortable feeling.
She walked away without saying another word, and then felt bad for doing so. She should have asked Aaron about his work. Or if he still planned on attending the youth singing tonight. Instead, she returned to the loaves of bread and continued to place them out on the tables. As she moved, she had a feeling that a hundred eyes watched her. She didn't care about all the other eyes. She just hoped Aaron liked what he saw.
The ride home from church in the buggy was solemn. The rain had stopped and the sun had come out, but it did nothing for her parents' mood.
Marianna tried not to let their sour faces bother her. She thought instead of Aaron Zook and wondered what it would be like to be his wife. She didn't seem ready, not really, then again many girls married at her age.
"Did you hear Ollie Smucker yet? What he had to say about our talk of a move to Montana?" Mem straightened the bonnet on her head as if even thinking about his words was pushing her out of shape. "He says if we move it's because we want to lead a more liberal lifestyle. Without an ordained minister in the area, they are certain we're going to move into a house with electricity, get our own car, and maybe even a television." Mem spat the last word and turned to look out the side of the buggy, staring off into the fields sprouting with new life. Marianna again wondered if Mem were thinking of her oldest son and all he was experiencing.
"Ja, but not everyone was so negative. I noticed from the interested expressions in more than one man's eyes that they wished they could go themselves." Dat leaned back in the seat, his fingers loosely holding the reins.
"Well, all their unvoiced thoughts can't make up for your mother's response." Mem's jaw tightened. "She says we are tempting Marianna to run off and live Englisch ways by forcing her to leave behind her home and her beau. She didn't listen as I insisted our daughter is not getting married tomorrow. It's not like we're canceling her baptism and wedding."
Marianna's shoulders tightened as she listened to them. While her brothers played rock, paper, scissors beside her, Marianna adjusted her little sister in her arms. She snuggled Ellie close to her, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed hair. What would it be like to hold her own child some day? It was a nice thought. Maybe she should mention to her mother what she'd been thinking about during church. The idea, that, in fact, had grown on her.
"Actually, I have a plan for that . . . for the move." Marianna leaned forward from the back seat, leaning toward her mother and father. "Rebecca suggested I stay here and take care of the house. I can keep the garden, care for all the fruit trees and vegetables. The animals, too."
"Rebecca's the last one you need to be seeking advice from."
Marianna knew from the tone of her mother's voice that inputting more of Rebecca's advice would take the conversation in the wrong direction.
Marianna straightened her shoulders, readjusting Ellie on her lap. "What I meant to say was that I'm considering staying home, caring for the farm, spending time in the community before my baptism."
Her father reached back over his shoulder, and patted Marianna's hand that was resting on the seat back. "Daughter, while we can't make you go with us, we wish you would consider coming. It seems there are too many influential people in this community who can sway your heart, Levi and Rebecca being two. But more than that, I was just talking with that Moser lad this afternoon. William's looking to take up a bride in a few months—Martha Sutter from next county over. I told them they could live in our house for the first year of marriage. You can stay in the area, but I'm afraid our home will be unavailable."
Marianna felt her mouth drop open, and she tugged on her hand, pulling it out of her father's grip.
"You can live with Levi," David commented. Marianna hadn't realized her twelve-year-old brother also had been listening. David's eyes were bluish gray�
�the same color as the cloud-filled sky above the buggy. Though David would start his eighth grade year in the fall, which would mean the end of his schooling, he was small in size and it made it easy to lump him with the younger kids.
"Levi?" Marianna looked at David. "Why would I want to do that? He lives with Englisch friends."
"Ja, but he said they have a television and a car and they can go to bed and sleep anytime they want. Levi said I can move in with him as soon as I'm sixteen. He's going to show me the ropes." David jutted out his chin, and for the first time Marianna noticed how much his personality reminded her of Levi.
And, as she looked to the front of the buggy, she wasn't surprised to see her mother's fingers pressed to her lips, trying to hold in the emotions that her brother's wanderings and careless words stirred. Marianna also noticed her father's fixed jaw and the click of the reins that forced the horse to pick up speed. Her father's mind was set. He was determined. This—no doubt—was the very thing they were trying to avoid.
They'd be moving to Montana. She was sure of it. All of them.
"Can I speak with you for a moment, Marianna?" It was her dat's voice following her, carrying on the damp air. She turned and paused her steps. He stood by the buggy and watched as the others moved toward the house.
"Of course." She looked down at her sister, who was asleep in her arms, and then looked up at him.
He approached her, and his face looked tired. He looked sad too, as if regretting the words he had to say. "I know this isn't how you planned your life. I know you have dreams of your own." He lifted his hand and touched Ellie's hand that was curled against her neck. He let out a low sigh. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think I had to do this—for my family. Your brother David, he sees Levi and wants to follow. I'm worried for him. I know it's a few years yet, but those thoughts settle in one's mind and grow like weeds, choking out the good lessons he ought to be learning. And then there's the job. Trying to tend to the farm and work in town is hard. I don't have enough time with the boys. Can't help your mem."
"I'm doing the best I can. Maybe I should tell Mrs. Ropp that I can't help at her place anymore." Even as Marianna spoke the words, a twinge of sadness pinged against her heart. She counted on that job to get extra money to pay for fabric for her quilts.
"That's not enough, I'm afraid. Your mother, well, I thought she would have told you by now, but she's with child."
Marianna thought back to the numerous signs, her mother's paleness. The way she was just holding her stomach today, as if she thought she was going to be ill.
"But that's a reason to stay. She shouldn't travel—shouldn't have to try to set up a home if she's with child."
"The midwife thinks differently. Thinks it will help your mother to get away. There is a good midwife in Montana she knows and recommends. She believes your mother needs to get fresh mountain air and—"
"And not be around Levi."
"It breaks her heart." He lowered his head. "And now to hear David . . ."
She wanted to argue. She wanted to pout, but the look on her father's face was one of pure love. He had no selfish motives. It no doubt was hard leaving his farm—the place he took pride in for so many years.
"And after the baby?" She lifted her eyebrows.
"Then you can return. If six months comes and you're still not settled, I'll pay for your ticket. Aunt Ada already volunteered her room—for you to stay with her." He lowered his head and she could see how hard it was to ask this of her.
Ellie stirred in Marianna's arms, and a horse tugged on her lead and whinnied, as if wondering what they were doing standing there, instead of taking her to the warm barn and her feed. The bark of the neighbor's dog could be heard from down near the creek and the songs of birds in a distant tree.
Marianna looked away from his face to the land around them. Sometimes she liked to walk through her father's fields and imagine what it would have been like when her great-grandfather had first settled the land. When two thin lines of wagon trails had led him to this place. She heard from the lady at the grocery store that from the sky the fields looked like a quilt. She thought of that every time she worked on her own hand stitching. They were one small quilt square sewn together amongst so many others. It gave her comfort knowing that they were part of a larger pattern. That they were stitched to others. That there was a good design that God somehow knew.
She closed her eyes and imagined her seam ripper, unfastening the threads and yanking them out. She looked to her father's gaze and again realized he knew what he was asking. And for him to ask meant he was desperate for her help. Needed her support to make it.
"Ja. I'll do that. I'll go for a time. I'll help." She meant it. She'd move. Help her mother. And return. She focused on his eyes and nodded, making sure he understood she would return.
He looked away, staring into the fields he'd planted but wouldn't see harvested. "Six months then for you. Tomorrow we pack our things."
CHAPTER NINE
Twenty of Marianna's friends had gathered for the youth sing at the Zook's house, but Marianna was only interested in one. For the last hour they'd been sitting around a small fire, boys on one side and girls on the other. They sang the same type of hymns they did at church. The same songs that their parents had sung as youth, their grandparents too, and before them many generations of Amish. Marianna thought little about the words lifting from her lips. She repeated as mindless as a young child reciting his ABCs. Her mind was on Aaron, and she hoped he was thinking of her. Would he keep caring after she was gone?
The odor of burning wood and smoke mixed with the fresh scents of spring. In the distance the setting of the sun turned the sky a soft pink. She hadn't realized how beautiful it was.
A few times during the gathering, her eyes had met Aaron's across the campfire, but most of the time she kept her eyes focused on the blades of green grass under her feet, her shoes, even her hands on her lap. Other guys and girls were more obvious with their flirtations—mostly those who'd already begun dating.
After an hour passed, Mrs. Zook exited the house with a platter of sandwiches, placing them on the picnic table. The singing stopped, and excited conversation and laughter filled the air. Marianna rose and followed the others, noting how awkward it was without Rebecca or Naomi. She was friends with the other girls, but she'd always been closest to those two. She patted the back of her kapp, making sure every hair was in place and then stood to the side of the table, not hungry.
Her nerves were balled up, like pea pods under her skin from being this close to Aaron for the last hour. Add that to the fact this was her last youth sing for many months. It was strange to know that all her friends would still be here, gathering to sing and in the summer to play games and visit by the river, but she wouldn't be with them. Would they miss her? Would they even notice?
A hand touched her arm. A small bolt of lightning jolted up her arm and zipped her heart, but when she glanced over it was Mrs. Zook, not Aaron, who stood there.
"Aren't you hungry? I've made plenty. Don't want you returning home telling your mother I didn't feed ya."
"Oh no, I'd never say that, ma'am. Just waiting till everyone got theirs first." She stepped forward and took a bread and cheese sandwich from the stack and then stepped back to Mrs. Zook's side. She smiled and then took a big bite, forcing herself to chew and swallow.
"So, I hear you're going to be moving soon?" The older woman with graying hair tried to make her tone light, but Marianna noted concern in her gaze.
"Yes, my father wants us to go west for a year. Montana."
"Oh, I see." The woman cocked one eyebrow, and Marianna could read from her face what she was thinking. It wasn't an I-am-worried-about-my-son's-care-for-you type of look. Instead her eyes said I-am-worried-you're-leaving-so-you-can-do-as-you-wish-without-the-church-knowing type of look.
A cry sounded from the house. Mrs. Zook looked over her shoulder to see one of her children standing in the doorway, holding a hand to h
er head, chin tilted up, crying.
"Will you excuse me? That's Hilly, she could fall and get hurt in a room full of goose feathers. We'll have to talk again, dear, before you leave."
"Ja, of course."
She hadn't gotten five steps away when Aaron approached, taking his mother's place.
Aaron crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from side to side. "Can we talk?"
Marianna glanced up at him, but the pleasant look he had during the sing was gone.
"Sure."
They walked to the side of the barn, still in view of the others who were finishing their sandwiches and once again gathering around the fire. Marianna leaned her back against the wall. Her knees were soft and she used the support of the barn to hold her up.
"You're leaving? Did I hear my mother right, Marianna? I thought it was just a rumor." He removed his hat, turning it in his hands. A ring was left on his blond hair where his hat had sat, and she even found that appealing.
"Yes, Dat has made the plans. I . . . it wasn't my idea."
"But the cabin. I've been working on it for six months."
"You speak of a cabin, but you've yet to even ask me out for one drive, Aaron Zook."
"Nonsense." He ran his fingers through his hair, focusing his eyes on hers. "You've always known how I've felt about you. There hasn't been another girl I've paid attention to since the last year of school when we used to walk home on the same path."
"We were just children. That was four years ago. How was I to know?" Even as she said the words, Marianna felt heat rising to her neck. Aaron was right, she'd always known.
"Do you think I walked one mile out of my way if I didn't care?" He pointed toward the woods behind their house, toward a house she knew he was building back there. "Do you think I'd invest everything I have in a house . . . a home?"